Читать книгу The Scantilly Tales - Danielle Shoebottom - Страница 7

Monday

I gaze in wonder. It’s magic lingerie, I swear. In the hallway mirror I see my perfections rather than the usual. I’m glad nobody can hear my thoughts. I look amazing. It’s not just that – it’s scandalous how I feel. I wish I could show someone, to label it hot would be far too cold.

It began earlier when a courier rang my doorbell at 7.15am. Though awake and dressed, it was pre-coffee and I grumbled to myself as I went to answer it. Yet my face transformed at the sight of a parcel wrapped in ribbons. I beamed at the yellow-uniformed man, gave him my sweetest ‘thank-you’ and carried the gift inside.

I untied it and before the ribbons had unfurled over my oak kitchen table, I’d removed the lid. My eyes widened at the material sleeping inside. Shimmering like mist over water was a tempting black satin interlaced with a semi-transparent mesh. Then the centre-piece, a glittering rose-gold island, an ornate charm etched with an enigmatic ‘S’ that mesmerised my wits.

In a trance, instinctively, my hands submitted to the two-piece’s allure. It was perfect. I adore sexy lingerie but I’d never seen anything like it. I lifted the acquiescent briefs and gasped pleasure. I should have left for work but accepted the inevitable lateness without thought.

In the kitchen, I undressed. I needed to see it on. Immediately. The touch as it fitted my skin was softly caressing, stirring and exciting. Eyes closed, I lightly traced my fingers along the fabric sensing satin first and then mesh; before last, the cut-out in the briefs where I reached my own exposed skin. I was in danger of getting carried away.

In front of the mirror, I gape. It is flawless … I am. I can’t turn away or take it off but I have to leave for work. I keep it on. It’s not a decision, already it’d be like removing my skin. I re-dress, replacing my flats with heels. Monday has looked up.

Only when I’m about to leave do I notice the card on the floor. I haven’t even thought about it. I pick it up:

Peek-A-Boo!

x

Who could have sent it? I am intrigued, I confess.

The thing is, now is not the time. This is for me and about me. I walk out feeling euphorically sinful.

Today, I’m Peek-a-Boo.